The Inscrutable Charlie Muffin Read Online Free PDF Page A

to touch, reflected Charlie. How he wished the approach had come through friendship, reminiscent of the man’s father, rather than desperation.
    ‘Why should I?’ he said.
    ‘ Why make people crawl, Charlie … why bully? ’
    The part of him that had always embarrassed Edith most, he remembered. The part his wife didn’t like and was always trying to correct.
    Willoughby winced, imagining a refusal.
    ‘No reason,’ he accepted. ‘The sort of things you once did …’
    He paused, recalling what Charlie had done.
    ‘It was silly of me,’ he said. ‘I should have realised you couldn’t do it, that it would be too dangerous for you because of what happened.’
    ‘You expect me to … because of my relationship with your father?’
    ‘I hoped you’d try to help.’
    ‘As the last resort.’
    ‘Please,’ said Willoughby.
    Charlie stopped, suddenly angry with himself. He shouldn’t do it, certainly not to a man whose father had befriended him to the degree that Sir Archibald had.
    ‘ Inverted snobbery …’
    Another of Edith’s accusations. Almost correct, too. Sir Archibald had recognised it properly. Warned him about it, even.
    ‘ Inferiority complex, Charlie … not the confidence everyone imagines. Why, Charlie? ’
    And Charlie couldn’t answer because he hadn’t known himself. Not then. Not until it was too late.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
    ‘You’ve a right to be offended,’ Willoughby accepted. ‘It was madness of me to think of you, after all you’ve been through.’
    ‘Not really,’ said Charlie. ‘You didn’t put up barriers when I asked you for help once.’
    That had been after Charlie was stupid enough to make a pilgrimage to Sir Archibald’s grave. British Intelligence had picked him up there and started the pursuit. What logic said it had been all right for them to set him up to be killed in East Berlin, then label him a renegade, to be hunted and assassinated because he had fought back and exposed them for their stupidity? Only Willoughby had understood, because the same men had caused his father’s suicide. So only Willoughby had helped. Not true, he corrected himself. Edith had helped, as she had always done. And now Edith was dead.
    Believing he had been rejected, Willoughby said, ‘I’d appreciate your not mentioning this to anyone.’
    ‘I haven’t said I won’t help,’ said Charlie.
    Willoughby blinked, his eagerness almost childishly obvious in his face.
    ‘You could get to Hong Kong?’ he asked hurriedly. ‘I mean, there wouldn’t be any difficulty with … about your identity?’
    Charlie smiled at the other man’s renewed embarrassment.
    ‘The passport is genuine enough,’ he said. ‘It was the documents that obtained it that were phoney.’
    Work again, thought Charlie. Different from what he’d been used to, but still work. It would be good to get back. And to end those aimless Sunday drives.
    ‘I’d need the full authority of your company,’ said Charlie. ‘I’d never get official help without it.’
    ‘Of course,’ Willoughby assured him. ‘And I’ll let Nelson know you’re coming … ask him to give you every assistance.’
    Charlie stood.
    ‘And thank you,’ said Willoughby.
    ‘There’s no guarantee that I’ll find anything to help you,’ warned Charlie. ‘It seems as straightforward as Nelson has said.’
    ‘But you might,’ said the underwriter.
    The man was more desperate than he had imagined, thought Charlie, as he emerged into the secretary’s office. The summer rain suddenly burst against the window and he remembered the split sole.
    ‘Where’s the nearest shoe shop?’ he said.
    The girl looked up at Charlie in hostile bewilderment.
    ‘A what?’
    ‘Shoe shop,’ repeated Charlie. Supporting himself against her desk, he raised his feet, so she could see the gap.
    ‘Need a new pair,’ he said unnecessarily.
    The girl pressed back against her chair, face frozen in contempt.
    ‘I’m sure I really have no idea,’